Unrequited love can be hazardous to your health
by A.H.S. Stories
Summary: Juliet is caught with a vicious sicko.  Shawn and Lassie make their way into the picture.  Find out how the 3 handle the aftermath.  VERY M - story deals with kidnapping, physical and sexual assault.  Jules/Lassie/Shawn and all the gang make appearances.
1. Chapter 1

Juliet groaned as she woke. Her head was pounding and she winced at the crisp, bright light streaming in from her bedroom window.

Looking around, she wondered briefly about how she had gotten home. She had been on a blind date -well, she had planned to be- her date had never showed. She had already had a couple beers and a martini to settle her nerves and put the long day behind her. She decided to stay at the bar, determined to enjoy herself even if she didn't have a date for the evening.

Thinking hard, she vaguely remembered striking up a conversation with a handsome man at the bar. Richard... something... she couldn't recall. They had shared a few more drinks, a couple hours of conversation, and... as snippets of the night buzzed through her mind, she was pretty sure, a cab ride home.

"I must have gone home first," she thought to herself as she gingerly slid out of bed, testing her balance as her head screamed from the change in position. "I must have been REALLY drunk," she added, not recalling feeling this hungover since a few parties her freshman year of college. Something about knowing they were breaking the law had led most of the students in her class to "party hearty" so to speak and had almost always resulted in the mother of all hangovers the next morning.

After taking a few deep breaths to clear her head, Juliet began to make her way to her kitchen, the need for coffee and an aspirin getting the better of her.

.

He smiled as he heard the soft rustlings of the bed covers as she began to awaken. Everything had been planned perfectly. She would be surprised, but appreciative. Reaching for a nearby pill bottle and a coffee mug, he turned to the freshly filled coffee pot andbegan to prepare a cup of the rich smelling nectar for the love of his life. He knew it would always be these tiny moments between them that he would remember most fondly. Smiling, he turned to face her, a thrill running through him as he registered the quick intake of breath as she took in her surprise.

.

"I definately am not having that much to drink ever again," Juliet thought as she entered her kitchen. Her mind struggled to race as she tried to remember the events of the night before. Apparently the man she had shared the cab with hadn't gone home. A surprised gasp passed through her lips as she took in the sight of him, standing at her kitchen counter. He slowly sipped coffee from one of her mugs, a second cup waiting nearby him on the counter.

"Um, good morning," she began to speak slowly as the shock wore off. "I wasn't expecting annyone else to be here..." her voice trailed off as she took a few steps across the kitchen moving to stand in front of the coffee pot.

"It was a pretty crazy night," the man smiled as he replied. He appeared relaxed and kept his distance as she worked out her memories. "We shared a cab. You were pretty wobbly when we got here, so I helped you into your place. Must've taken too long cuz the cabbie just up and left. I was going to call for another one but you offered the use of your couch for the night."

Juliet nodded slowly as flickers of the night before played like a film story inside her head. She remembered rummaging for spare blankets and pillows before stumbling her way to bed to sleep it off. "It was after last call, a cab would have taken forever to get here and would have charged twice the usual rate just because they could." She spoke as the flickers got clearer in her mind, forming into the memories locked away in her still substance addled brain.

"Yeah," he smiled once again, "thanks again I really appreciate it, especially since you don't even know me."

"Thanks for the coffee," Juliet replied "I just cant seem to wake up this morning." She took several more sips and began to bustle around the kitchen, gathering a bowl and a box of cereal from a nearby cabinet. "Would you like anything for breakfast?" She asked Richard.

He shook his head, joining her at the kitchen table with his coffee and bringing hers from the counter. "No thanks, I'm all set," he replied, "not really a morning eater. I have to be up a while to work up an appetite." He smiled, watching as she drank the coffee heartily while nibbling at bites of cereal in between.

"I hope I'm not making you late to work."

Juliet shook her head. "No, I have the weekend off. I was thinking of going to visit my brother in San Francisco..." her voice trailed off as she remembered she had taken a cab home the night before.

"Crap," she muttered hastily draining the rest of the coffee in one large gulp. "I'll have to get a cab back to the bar. I left my car there last night." She shook her head as a wave of residual drowsiness swept over her.

"I can get one for us," Richard volunteered. "That way I'll have a ride home after you pick up your car. Then you will be able to head straight out to San Francisco."

Thinking about the length of the drive, Juliet realized it made sense to avoid having to make a detour out of her way. "Okay," she nodded and rose from her chair. "I'll just go get cleaned up and ready. Make yourself comfortable, I shouldn't be more than a half hour.

Richard smiled to let her know that would be fine. As the lithe, blonde detective made her way towards the master bedroom, he quickly drew the curtains and made sure that the windows and doors were locked. He then turned and strode purposefully back towards Juliet's room, his ears listening as she turned on the shower.

.

Dressed in a silky, knee-length nightie, she looked sleek and sexy as she gathered towels and laid her clothes for the day on the bathroom counter. He smiled as she turned to walk back into the bedroom for a forgotten item and gave a squeak of surprise as she nearly walked into him.

Slowly, he moved to stand in front of her, looking deep into her eyes. His hand reached out and gently brushed a tendril of hair away from her eyes.

"I wanted to let you know I really liked our time out together last night," he stage whispered. "I was wondering if...may I?" His fingers trailed down her cheek and brushed across her lips as he spoke; then ghosted across her jaw, settling along the back of her neck, weaving slightly into her rumpled hair.

Lips partially parted, Juliet barely had time to process bis words before the feel of his fingertips along her face sent a bolt of hot, passionate energy through the very core of her. Her brain seemed to instantaneously become wrapped in clouds. Her gaze locked with his before her eyes fluttered, her face drew nearer to his and she felt the tentative brush of soft lips upon hers.

She couldn't explain it really, didn't really care to at the moment either. The way her body responded automatically to his, the way her hands roamed around him with a hint of familiarity. Her heart pounded in her chest as their kiss deepened and his fingers gripped her neck more firmly. His lips trailed down to her neck and shoulders as her hands scrambled for a place to touch, sliding along his abdomen and insistently moving his shirt up higher and higher. They stood there for several minutes, grasping, nipping, caressing each other's bodies. A loud groan escaped Richard's lips as they paused to provide their bodies withmuch needed oxygen. Tucking a finger under her chin, he tipped her face upward, his gaze meeting hers as he asked, "Are you sure?"

Richard smiled as Juliet's answer was to inch their bodies back towards the bed, pulling away slightly only to move herself to the center. Her lips swollen, eyes dark and round with desire, she spoke, "C'mere". The words slurring together a bit more than she had intended. Any further thougts she had on her appearance were quickly drowned out as she gave herself up to the blissful sensations of Richard's skilled touch. Juliet's eyes fluttered closed and as her mind got lost in the experience, she couldn't tell if the voice she heard sighing and cooing in response to his touches was in her head or out loud. Not a care in the world disturbed the young detective as she floated away, hardly registering the change in pace, intensity and tone of her lover's embrace.


	2. Chapter 2

Richard groaned at the sweet sensations wrapping around him. He gazed at the blonde figure below him, her hair shifting as her body followed his thrusts, her lips were slightly parted. Her eyes were unfocused and partly closed. Soft, incoherent sounds spilled from her lips, egging him on as he moved his traitorous cock in and out of her slick pussy.

Anger flared inside him as he caught himself thinking fondly of her. "Fucking bitch," he said aloud, stilling his movement and bringing his hands to her face. "You filthy whore, giving yourself away to the sweetest bidder. A couple of drinks and you'll spread your legs for anyone. You don't deserve this... decency." Richard reached one hand up along the back of her neck, grasping tightly to the hair swirling around her on the pillow. His other hand grasped her jaw, roughly shaking her head until her eyes opened up to him again.

Leaning close to her face, he squeezed her jaw tightly, ensuring her attention to him would not waver.

"You're mine now," he hissed, "and you have a lot of making up to do for your behavior!"

As he spat out the last words, he yanked her hair, drawing her head back painfully and resumed his thrusts into her body with increasing fervor and vigor. He moved the hand from her jaw down to her breast and squeezed and pinched it roughly, watching as her body shifted powerless beneath him. Inch by inch he jammed himself against her body, and inch by inch her body moved further up the bed until her head began to smash into the unforgiving headboard in time with each of his thrusts.

Smiling, Richard closed his eys, frantically pistoning his hips as he found himself closer and closer to release. Grunting as he neared his finish, he leant down and drew her other breast into his mouth. As his orgasm ripped through him, he clamped his teeth down hard around her tender flesh, gripping it's twin with fingers digging into her skin, drawing blood from both sides. Panting, he felt his cock slip from inside her, twitching briefly as he saw his blood tinged semen trail down her inner thighs. Rolling off her body and standing, he strode across the room to the bathroom where the shower she had just prepared moments before had reached the perfect temperature. Glancing back at her, disgust and contempt plain on his face, he repeated to himself," You're mine now and you're going to make up for your disappointments."

Across the room, Juliet's eyes slowly flicked open and closed as her brain struggled to process what was going on.

Sound, light, sensation... all of it swirled around her mind in choppy pieces. Feeling as if her body was frozen, her mind quickly gave up on it's struggle to remain coherent and she found herself being pulled into the warm, fuzzy security of unconsciousness.

.

Juliet moaned, attempting to identify the source of her discomfort. Her body ached, her head ached and she felt weak and drained. Turning her head towards her alarm clock, she groaned as the room began to weave around her, all focus fading. The light coming through her windows told her it was late in the day. Small memories of heading to the shower tickled the back edges of her conscious mind. She groaned as the ceiling light above her was suddenly turned on. One hand limply attempted to block out the offending beam, but fell short, flopping listlesly to the mattress just above her shoulder.

"Here, this will help the headache," a somewhat familiar voice said. She felt herself being propped up in the bed and automatically parted her lips to accept the pill pressed against them. Cool water followed, and after several tries, she was able to swallow the pill. She felt her mind begin to clear a bit as the person propping her up slipped behind her in the bed, cradling her body between his legs, resting her pained head against his chest.

"You must be coming down with a cold," the voice said. "I figured I would stay until you were more yourself."

Juliet mumbled an automatic and mostly coherent, "thanks" as she rested her head back. The deep pains in her body were becoming much more distinct as she lay there for a few minutes and she began to become aware of soft, rhythmic touches along her arms and across her abdomen.

As Richard's fingertips ghosted across her nipples, she arched reflexively, drawing a sinister chuckle from his lips. His hands repeated the motion, trailing down her sides and gripping her hips firmly as he shifted his body to the side of her, scooting them further down the bed as he did. Drawing his hands along her sternum, he splayed his fingers and grasped her hips again, roughly shifting her body back beneath his before sliding to her knees and pushing them outward to expose her blood tinged cunt.

Richard drew his body over Juliet's, grasping her chin again in his hand and turning her face to meet his. He could feel the loosening of her muscles returning and feel the subtle quickening of her breath that told him she was not yet unconscious. "Is this what you want?" he asked, ghosting his fingertips once more from her neck to her pelvis before angling his wrist and extending his fingers, pressing them forcefully deep into her unprepared body.

He smiled as a flicker of pain flashed in her eyes and her lips parted, but no words came out.

Juliet's hands twitched slightly as she attempted to raise them from the bed, but Richard easily swept them aside. Shifting his weight onto his supporting arm, he moved it to press down on her shoulder joint, effectively pinning her body in place while he continued to thrust his fingers into her.

"Is... this... what... you... wanted... to feel? Juliet heard the words, her body and mind finally connecting through the returning haze as she felt each word punctuated by a stabbing pain deep inside her. As she felt her body continue to silently protest the roughness, she felt the warm cocoon begin to flow around her. The reality of her situation began to vaguely register as she fell into her slumber. Drugged and defenseless, she was being raped in her own home by a man she hardly knew. A lone tear began to roll down her cheek and a whimper escaped her lips. The final sound she registered was Richard laughing as he leaned close to her face saying, "You're mine now... all mine."


	3. Chapter 3

Carlton Lassiter sat at his desk, intensely focused on the case report in front of him. A new designer drug was making it's way onto the club scene. It's essential function was to incapacitate an individual for nefarious purposes. He scowled as he read the lab's report on the drug's effects. It impacted judgement, inhibitions, memory and rendered the consumer partially paralyzed while it was at it's peak effectiveness. An individual could breath on their own, but would find it nearly impossible to speak or fend off their attacker.

So far, three women had been drugged. At first it had seemed the victims had nothing on common, but something had been nagging in the back of Carlton's mind since Friday. Currently he was combing through the stack of reports and summaries that had been generated looking for commonalities. He was also consciously ignoring the direct order Chief Vick had given regarding he and O'Hara taking the weekend off.

.

"Lassieface!" Shawn Spencer's jubilent voice broke through his concentration, causing him to bite back a groan as the psychic detective bounced himself into the chair nearest Lassieter's desk. He closed his eyes and took a slow breath in to calm himself as the young man began leaning over the desk and studying the files as well. "Whatcha working on? Priceless museum artifacts taken by aliens? Imposters taking over the mayor's office? A local crime syndicate roughing up the local pineapple stands? I sensed a disturbance in the force and rushed over to offer my assistance with whatever you need."

Grumbling, Lassiter lay the files down on his desk and turned his gaze towards the incredibly annoying (and yet oddly accurate) "colleague" beside him. He secretly took pleasure as he saw a flicker of fear and seriousness come over Shawn's face, quickly masked by him taking a long, noisy slurp from the pineapple (was it ever anything else) flavored smoothie clasped in his hands.

"You can assist me by going back to whatever hair brained , fortune telling, ghost hunting job some poor sap hired you for," he replied flatly, turning his gaze back to his files. "Your services are not needed here today." Lassiter smiled triumphantly, sending Shawn a look that screamed, 'so take that you big phoney'.

"Ah, I beg to differ," Shawn chimed, not ready to throw in the pineapple patterned towel just yet. "I heard Detective O'Hara's subliminal messages and knew I couldn't let her... and you.. and the SBPD down."

"Wrong-o Spencer," Lassiter finally smiled broadly. "O'Hara's not here today. She doesn't even know about this case. She got the weekend off and went to see her brother in San Francisco. She won't be back for," he checked his watch, "another twenty-two hours."

Pretending to look crushed, Shawn sighed. He really had only come to see Juliet and flirt a bit. What little he had seen of the case files made him sick to his stomach. He didn't really want to get himself involved in the case of some sicko with relationship issues and a power trip. Some casess he was more than happy to let SBPD's finest handle on their own. Although he planned on never admitting that particular fact of life to the man in front of him. "Psychically" detecting a serial rapist was just too distasteful even for him. Whistling, he strode out of the SBPD lobby, hardly looking back as he dragged out his cell phone and pressed the speed dial he knew connected him to his next favorite person in the world.

"GUS", he squealed a little when the line was picked up. "What do you think about taking a drive for the afternoon? I hear the northern coast is absolutely lovely this time of year!"

.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this Shawn." Burton Guster, "Gus" to his friends, scowled as they drove through another residential neighborhood.

"C'mon man," Shawn cajoled, "who would have guessed that there would be so many O'Hara's in the Greater San Francisco area?"

"That's it Shawn," gus snapped back into his logical, disciplined mode, "We're going home."

"But Gus, we've only been looking for an hour!" Shawn pleaded.

"It's been three Shawn, not counting the time it took us to drive up here. It's seven o'clock at night on a Saturday. I could be out on a date with Trudy Marshall right now. I'm going home now before I waste my entire weekend on this ridiculous goose hunt for Juliet."

Sensing his time was up, Shawn slumped down into the passenger seat of the blueberry, sulking briefly before his face lit up.

"Fine," he bargained, "but we have to stop for one of those taste the rainbow smoothies on the way back."

Gus rolled his eyes, "Shawn, it's a pick-your-flavor smoothie with food coloring added. You can make one at home."

"It has to be authentic Gus," Shawn added, "where else can I find someone who will make me a RAINBOW pineapple frozen concoction?"

.

By the time they navigated the winding side street and tangled neighborhoods, and had stopped for food, drinks and desserts on the way home, it was well past sunset when the two friends left San Francisco. Even Shawn had to admit that he was tired when Gus finally pulled up in front of his apartment, wearily wishing him good night and telling him that he planned on being out with his family later on that day.

Shawn made his way into his apartment, not noticing the small envelope tucked under the door. Stumbling towards the couch, he slumped down, falling asleep almost instantly and not waking until almost noon the next morning.

.

Carlton Lassiter groaned as he raised his head up fron the cushions of his couch. Chief Vick had caught him at his desk the day before and sent him home with the strict instruction to "take some time off Carlton,"

"It's ten o-clock on Saturday night," she had told him, "If you're still here when I get back from the ladies room, I am going to personally guarantee that you spend all of next week on paid vacation and I will bar you from entering the station unless you are the one IN handcuffs."

Lassiter had taken the not-so-idle threat to heart and had been headed out the door of the precinct in plent of time. Not a word had been said however, about working from home, so he had tucked the files in his briefcase and spent the next three (or four - he had lost track of time) hours searching for a clue to the serial rapist's identity. So far, he hadn't come up with anything.

The detective was pouring himself a second cup of coffee when the sound of loud pounding on his front door caused him to miss the cup completely, splashing hot coffee onto his hand.

Sputtering, he peered through the peep hole before jerking the door open, his glare already at full intensity as he greeted the unexpected visitor.


	4. Chapter 4

"Spencer," he growled. "What the hell do you want at," he paused to glance at his watch, "one o'clock on a Sunday?" Lassiter winced internally, not realizing that he had slept as late as he did. He must have been up working on the files far later than he realized.

"I've got... it was under my door... I don't know when.. I ... you should.. it's..." Shawn sputtered, nearly causing Lassiter to snap at him again until the detective noticed the genuine concern and fear in the psychic's expression and tone. The latter of the emotions caused the detective to pause and give the man his full attention.

Reaching for the envelope in the younger man's hand, he tried to ignore the faint tremble he saw there. "What is it," he began, opening the envelope as he spoke. His voice trailed off as his mind processed the contents of the envelope. Shifting his gaze back to Shawn's face, they locked eyes and Lassiter stepped aside to allow the younger man to enter his home.

"Tell me everything you know," he instructed, his tone all business as he glanced down at the photo in his hand.

The words came out gravely as lassiter's mouth dried at the sight of his partner. Her eyes closed, she lay partially clothed, and obviously injured, in the center of a bed. Scrawled across the envelope was the folowing message, "She is all mine now."

Shutting the front door behind the psychic, Lassiter followed him into the living room, listening intently as Shawn began to describe all the events of the day before.

.

"McNabb," Lassiter barked into his cell phone as he hastily secured his service weapon in his holster. Not caring that he still had his suit from the day before on, he reached for his keys and badge as he continued to speak with the younger officer. "Put out an APB on O'Hara's car and extend it to the San Francisco area, and get me the chief on the line."

"You sould go home Spencer," he said while waiting for the chief to pick up on the line, "In case the guy tries to contact you again." Lassiter knew that his partner and the psychic "detective" were flirting with becoming more than just civil colleagues. At first he had been very irritated with the blossoming relationship, but when he saw how happy Juliet seemed and how much the two of them cared for each other, he had softened his view of them. He had pulled Spencer aside one day and let him know in no uncertain terms that if he did ANYTHING to hurt the fair detective that even the cadaver dogs wouldn't be able to find all the pieces when he was done with him.

"Chief," Lassiter broke away from Shawn and began to update his boss as he grabbed a water bottle from his fridge, "I'll be at the station in roughly twenty minutes, I'll explain everything then, check with McNabb." He pocketed his cell phone and began to usher Shawn out the front door.

"Go home," he repeated, "call in ANYTHING you find out."

Sensing the consultant's hesitence, Lassie paused and looked the younger man in the eyes. Putting aside the less than professional level feelings of caring and concern for his partner that he felt inside him, he spoke once more to the man. "We will bring her back home. We WILL find her."

Stoically, Shawn nodded, snapping out of his daze enough to secure his helmet and ride off back to his apartment.

"Hang in there Juliet," he thought as he rode, "We're coming to get you out of whatever mess ou've gotten yourself into now."

.

"C'mon Lassie," Shawn muttered to himself as he paced the living room area of his apartment. "Tell me you've go her." Angrily he slammed his hands against the wall, wincing as he bent his wrist back slightly farther than he should have. "She's going to be okay, she's going to be okay," he began to utter the mantra to himself in a desperate effort to calm down. He'd tried to call Gus twice since getting back from Lassiter's, but true to his word, his best friend had dropped off the radar for the day.

The shrill sound of his phone ringing had him dashing across the room, nearly falling in his frantic race to pick up the call before it went to voicemail. He answered the call almost instantly, not even looking at the screen to check who the caller was.

"It's about time you called!" he exclaimed, his voice fading off as the caller began to speak.

"Haven't you accepted it yet Mr. Spencer," a gruff voice intoned. "She's all mine now. You're never going to see her again."

Shawn cringed, the sound of the man's voice causing chills to run up and down his spine. "Where is she?" he growled. A hard, seriousness he didn't know he had in him seemping into his tone.

"In good time Mr. Spencer," the voice repeated. "The SBPD will have it's pretty detective back in good time." Shawn's skin crawled as the man spoke, an ice cold knot forming in his stomach as he heard the parting words of Juliet's kidnapper before the line went dead in his hand. "If you're very good, I may return her only partly damaged."

Remembering his promise to Carlton, Shawn called him from the house phone to tell him about the anonymous call he had just gotten on his cell. "That's good Spencer," Lassie had said to him, "I'll get a trace out on that call."

.

"Um, Detective Lassiter?" McNabb gingerly addressed his superior officer, holding out a sheet of paper as he did. "I just got this back in regards to the APB on Detective O'Hara's car." he mumbled slightly glancing at his colleague as if apologizing for the news on the sheet.

Snatching the APB results bulletin, Carlton scanned the page picking out the pertinent details and looking back to McNabb. "Her car was ticketed two days ago?" he asked incredulously, "Where?" he continued his questioning even as the younger officer began to speak.

"Outside a bar just on the outskirts of the city," McNabb began, "it was double parked." He rushed after the detective as Carlton practically lept from his chair and strode towards the door.

"Finally," Lassiter exclaimed, "now there's something to go one. C'mon McNabb, let's go find her and bring her home."

Nodding dumbly, still a bit shocked at being included in the head detective's 'team', McNabb followed closely at Lassie's heels as they strode out of the station. Sliding into the passenger seat of the cruiser, the two began to drive across the city to the bar that had been O'Hara's last known where-abouts.

.

Meanwhile, back at his apartment, Shawn sat with his head in his hands. Desperately he re-analyzed all the evidence he had about Juliet's 'case'. "C'mon, c'mon..." he said out loud, "Gus! Where are you when I need you?" he wailed to the empty room. Waving his hands at the ceiling, Shawn indulged in a moment of classical frustration before shifting slightly in his seat, angling his body as if he was looking over to where he had just been. "You see Shawn," he said in his best Gus voice, "You finally admit just how much you need me to solve cases."

Returning to his original position Shawn continued in his usual voice. "Gus! Of course I need you, that fact was never in doubt! Now we BOTH need you."

"What have I been saying about you and Juliet, Shawn... there is no 'we' in that equation."

"Gus," Shawn sighed loudly, then firmly continued in his self dialog. "Let's cast that aside for the time being. The critical matter is solving the mystery of where Jules is being held prisoner."

"Right Shawn," 'Gus' answered in agreement, "let me see that picture again."

Shawn reached into his pocked to retrieve his cell phone. prio to rushing to Lassiter, he had taken a picture of the photo left for him, knowing the original would immediately become evidence in the investigation.

His eyes flicked back and forth, his expression a rare blend of intense concentration and seriousness. Suddenly he cocked his head to the side and brushed his fingers along the screen, blowing up the image and focusing on one small detail that was screaming at his subconscious.

"AHA!" Shawn exclaimed loudly, his fingers racing to dial Detective Lassiter. It took him two tries to get the number right, he was so giddy.

"Lassie... I know where Jules is... I can't believe I missed it... It must have been the shock that dulled my psychic connection..." Shawn was just about to reign himself in when he realized that the battery on his phone had chosen the world's most inappropriate time to die.

Swearing, Shawn quickly grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled a note on it. He knew Lassie would come looking for him and would check his apartment first. Pushing the note against the door to his apartment, he stuck it in place with the first thing he could find... the very used piece of gum he had tucked between his left molars... and rushed to his bike.

"Hang in there Jules," he thought to himself, "Help is on the way."


	5. Chapter 5

Pain. Terrible pain. Teeth-clenching, eye-wincing, relentless pain. That was the first thing Juliet became aware of as she began to awaken from the garbled, drug induced nightmare she was in. She struggled to recall what was happening, where she was and... most importantly... what day it was. Weakly, she tried to bring her hand up in front of her face, hoping to block out the bright afternoon sun.

Her hand raised several inches and then fell back down onto the bed. "My bed," she thought to herself as she registered lying face down on her bed. She had just squeezed her eyes shut against the light when warning bells began going off in the back of her head. Groaning, she opened her eyes again to confirm the sight her brain had processed. Dry lilps and hours of non-use left her voice small and broken as she called out to the figure seated nearby.

"Shawn?"

.*.*.*.*.*.

"Dude!"

The nagging little voice, (that sounded suspiciously like Gus'), inside Shawn's head dragged him back to the land of the living. A small rush of adrenaline flowed through his body, momentarily leaving him confused as he wondered what had awoken him.

"Shawn?"

The gravelly, frailness of Juliet's voice was the final string in the unraveled mess that was Shawn's memory. He was at Juliet's house. He knew she would be here and he figured, by now, so would Lassie. It was a good thing he had tried to get through to Lassie before coming over. Now fully awake, albeit dazed and with a splitting headache. (Just how hard do you have to get hit in the head to lose consciousness, he wondered.) Shawn realized that he was quite securely bound to a heavy chair across from Juliet, in what looked to be her bedroom.

"Jules..." he began to reply grogilly.

"SHUT UP!" Richard's voice bellowed at Shawn, causing the younger man to wince at the increased pounding it caused in his head.

"You... don't... deserve... her!" Richard continued, fiercely punctuating each word with repeated blows to Shawn's body and face, ignoring Jule's weak please for him to stop.

Dazed, the psychic detective struggled to maintain consciousness. "Lassie's coming, Lassie's coming, everything is going to end soon. Lassie's gonna get the bad guy. Gotta stay awake, gotta stay awake." he mentally chanted to himself.

Turning from Shawn, Richard grabbed Juliet's hair and jerked her head viciously, pointing her gaze at the injured man just out of her reach. He leaned his face close to her ear and began to move onto the mattress behind her, his legs straddling her thighs.

"I'm going to kill him when I"m done with you," he hissed into her ear, his breath hot on her skin. "But first, I"m going to make sure he knows you are mine!" As his body settled over hers, she winced, becoming more aware of the sensations as the drugs wore out of her system.

.

Julie felt her captor rocking back and forth along her backside. She felt the telltale sign of his arousal as he swelled and hardened, rough stroking himself along the cleft of her buttocks. she felt his hand move from her hair down to her hip. It only took a matter of seconds and she cursed her inability to fight him off. Locking her eyes with Shawn, she desperately tried, and failed, to hold back tears as she felt her cheeks spread suddenlly and the fierce burn and stabbing pains as Richard thrust his erect penis full into her rectum. She heard the sound of Shawn shouting again at Richard, his voice betraying his obvious injuries and head trauma and uncharacteristically fierce.

"You son of a bitch!" Shawn cried out, first demanding and then switching to begging Richard to stop for Juliet's sake. Shawn wrestled against his bindings so fiercely that he failed to notice the moment when his side blossomed into a stabbing pain. He kept on shouting, being Juliet's strength when she could not fight for herself. His breath came in harsh wheezes between shouts and it took the younger detective to recognize what had happened.

Richard smiled sadistically at Shawn, tuning out the man's presence as he pistoned his hips forward. The sticky slickness of blood and the harsh pleadings in the background drove him closer and closer to the edge of control. To his disappointment, he felt the familiar swirling knot in his stomach as his orgasm ripped through him with an intensity he hadn't expected.

"Oh yes," he thought to himself as he reluctantly withdrew from the broken blonde's body, "You are definately all mine Ms. Juliet O'Hara."

Rolling to the side, he barely had his feet on the bedroom floor before he found himself, after a dizzingly fast set of moves, face down on the carpet with his wrists grasped tightly behind his back - encased in cold, solid handcuffs.

"Too soon," he thought to himself, "The fun had ended much too soon."

.*.*.*.

"You're under arrest for kidnapping and assaulting an officer of the law," Lassiter growled at the man. He swiftly jerked the grinning bastard off the floor by his cuffs and thrust him in his temporary partner's direction.

"McNabb," he continued, his voice betraying his appearance of self control. "Get this sick son of a bitch out of my sight and call dispatch. Tell them we need two ambulances pronto."

McNabb nodded, struggling to not stare at Juliet's body, just feet away from him. He kept his eyes locked on Shawn while Lassiter spoke and then, none too gently, escorted Richard out of the room.

.

Spying a thick blanket on the floor by the foot of the bed, Lassie quickly grabbed it and gently lay it over O'Hara's body, providing her with some much needed privacy. Kneeling, he met her gaze and spoke softly and calmly to her. He made a point of not directly touching his partner until he had bettter guaged her state of mind.

"Shhh... It's over. We got the guy. You're safe now. It's over. He'll never be able to hurt you again. You're safe now...shhh." Carlton repeated these words for almost a full minute before Juliet made eye contact and looked at him, not through him.

"He's gone?" her voice was painfully small and frightened. Nothing at all like the strong, proud woman he knew.

"He's gone," Carlton nodded and answered just as softly. A spark of anxiety came over him as her eyes fluttered shut, but calmed when he checked her breathing and found she had just passed out from the strain of the ordeal and the pain she must be in.

.

"L-lassie..." Spencer's voice was choked and raspy and had a hint of growing desperation in it.

Carlton turned and quickly began to untie the younger man's bindings, barely finishing freeing the man's feet before Shawn spoke again.

"Can't...breathe...hurts...help!"

Shawn's anxiety at being tied down, injured and not being able to breath properly without immense pain seeped into his voice. Carlton immediately began to assess his condition as he worked swiftly to release the man's arm bindings.

"Hair disheveled, lower lip split in two places, old nose bleed, black eye forming," Carlton took a silent inventory before lookig the psychic in the eyes.

"Shawn, I"m going to check you for any broken bones. Tell me if anything hurts."

Gentle fingers systematically probed the back of Shawn's head, moving around to his cheek bones and jaw before trailing down the younger man's arms. All the while, Carlton kept careful watch on Shawn's face, looking for tells that he had found an injury. Shawn took a shallow breath and bit back tears when the air caught, causing him to gasp deeply. Too overcome with pain to try and brace himself, Shawn grit his teeth.

"Ahh... God... make it stop... can't breathe..."

"Shawn... SHAWN!", Lassiter's probing stopped abruptly as the man before him was wrenched into a vicious cycle of fear, pain and anxiety. "Shawn, slow down. You're going to be okay. Help is coming." Lassie intoned, using the same soft, disarming and yet strong voice he had used when speaking to his partner minutes earlier.

Shawn felt himself begin a downward slide, black and sparkly spots dancing before his eyes. His chest squeezing closed, each breath, each movement more painful than the last. He barely felt the stabbing pains blend into one giant band around him. He vaguely noticed Lassiter's steady hands easing him gently from the chair to the floor. Shawn's last conscious thought as the image of Lassie's face sparkling and dancing flashed in front of him, wass that he had finally found out what heaven felt like. Wouldn't Lassie laugh to find himself an angel.


	6. Chapter 6

Grimly, Carlton leaned over Shawn's unconscious form. In a small way, the panic attack the man had just experienced had done him some good. Satisfied that the man's respirations and pulse were relatively normal, Lassiter continued his thorough assessment of the younger man's injuries.

"At least Shawn didn't have to feel this part," he thought to himself as his hands moved to palpate the man's ribcase, prodding gently but methodically along the front, sides and back as much as he dared move the man.

Carlton was so engrossed in his first responder tasks that he barely noticed when Paramedics began to stream into the room. Dividing immediately into two teams, the first moved to relieve Carlton from attending to Shawn.

"Multiple contusions, possible skull fracture, probably fractured ribs on the left side. He lost consciousness after a panic attack, said he couldn't breath," Lassiter rattled off the bullets as he stood to give the crew room to work. "His name is Shawn Spencer."

Lassie's focus shifted to his partner, still lying with her eyes closed beneath the blanket. Were it not for her tear streaked and bruised face, she looked like she was just sleeping.

"Detective Juliet O'Hara," he began his brief to the second crew as the Chief arrived and began making her way across the room as discretely as possible. She carefully navigated the room, working to avoid being in the rescue crews' way. Her expression became a stony mask as she heard the head detective's report.

"Kidnapped thirth-eight hours ago, multiple contusions and lacerations. I didn't have a chance to check more..." he gestured towards Shawn, sounding apologetic.

"It's okay sir," the female paramedic taking down his report replied, "You did an excellent job."

"The doctor's will want to run a full assault screening," he continued.

Chief Vick noticed his tone of voice change to almost one of shame and guilt.

"I found the kidnapper in the midst of..." Carlton stuttered for a moment, biting back the urge to vomit as he pulled the vile memory to the front of his mind. "raping her."

Chif Vick stepped into their conversation at this point, sensing the need for both parties to resume their work. "Thank you detective," she spoke softly and earnestly. She then turned her attention to the medical personnel in the room.

"My officer's are getting their personal information together and will have it delivered to the hospital by the time you arrive."

The implication behind her words was not lost and both teams of rescuers worked efficiently to rush their patients to the Emergency Room. Their conversations between partners became a garbled blend in Carlton's mind as the shock of the entire situations began to set upon him.

.

"Detective..." the chief moved directly into his field of vision and repeated herself again. When she was sure the man was once again focused on her words, she continued. "Detective," her tone said even more than his had when he had spoken to Juliet and Shawn. "I'm handing the case over to another squad. Our department is too close to this one. As of now, you are officially off duty until I say otherwise. I will contact both their families."

Lassiter began to bristle slightly, but calmed as she continued to speak.

"One of the patrolmen is waiting to bring you to the ER to be wit your team. Go. I've got this."

Unable to speak as he realized what he was being told to do, the older man managed to stammer out a "Thanks" before bolting out of the room to get his ride to the ER. "Someone had hurt his partners," he thought to himself. "There's no way in hell I'm going to let either of them wake up alone. Not going to leave them surrounded by strangers in the ER either."

Murmuring several prayers to a God he wasn't sure existed, Carlton took a deep breath and pulled out his cell phone.

"Guster," he intoned, "I need you to meet me at the Emergency Room. Shawn needs you there. We found Juliet..." he stopped himself before he began to ramble on about the details. "Call me." he drew in a deep breath, struggling to calm his mind as he snapped the phone shut, only slightly surprised to find that he had automatically made his way out to the waiting cruiser.

Nodding at the uniformed officer, he sat in the passenger seat, silently conveying he was more than ready to make his way to the hospital. If only he had been able to reach Gus in person. He hoped that whatever the younger man was doing he would be attentive to his voicemail while he was out. Choosing to not engage in small talk during the ride, he turned his gaze instead out the side window, gazing at the road as the street lights cast their glow alongside the shadows of the sweet California sunset.


	7. Chapter 7

"What do you mean I can't see her?" The words came out as a growl.

The irritation and incredulousness in Lassiter's tone caused the petite attendant in front of himto cringe slight.

"I'm sorry sir, No one is allowed into the ER unless they are immediate family."

The young woman smiled sympathetically as she rounded the corner of the triage desk and headed towards the double doors that separated the waiting room from the Emergency room.

"I'm her partner God dammit!"

Lassiter'svoice rose, crossin from irritatedto angry as he finished. He took a step to follow her through the doors as she turned away from him but quickly came to a standstill when she stopped abruptly, spinning around to face him again.

"Detective!" her voice rose an octave higher as she came as close to face to face with him as she could.

Lassiter blinked, momentarily surprised, when the woman's tone grew firmer and her posture stiffened. Despite the fact that he stood nearly two feet taller than her, he felt himself shrink down as she exuded her no-nonsense and authoratative temperment.

"Right now," she continued, lowering her voice so only he could hear her, "your partner is being examined by the doctor." Her tone placed a little extra emphasis on the 'examined' part as she met his gaze. Her expression was determined but sympathetic.

"The best thing you can do for her right now is give the staff time to look after her and do their jobs. Then you can be there for her."

Lassie nodded, the implication of her statement only partially sinking in at first. His shoulders slumped as he realized what exams and tests the clinical staff would be performing.

The attendant, 'Jane' according to her ID badge, reached out her hand, squeezing the detective's forearm in a supportive manner before turning again to enter the ER.

"I'll be right back," she intoned softly, smiling encouragingly at him as she did.

.

Lassiter felt like a balloon inside him had been straining and straining and had just burst. Making his way to a nearby chair, he collapsed into the hard, cold, plastic frame with a deep sigh. All he could do right now was wait. Waiting did not come easily to Detective Carlton Lassiter.

The entire concept irked him to no end. He, Head Detective of the SBPD, had to be able to do something, he just had to. Try as he might, however, he couldn't think of a single other thing that he could do.

Defeated, he brought his head forward and clasped it in his hands. Swallowing a rapidly forming lump in his throat, he offered up a silent prayer.

"Please..." he thought, "let her be okay."

.

"Come with me."

Lassie started, abruptly clearing his throat as he did. Glancing to his side, he found the attendant looking down at him. He hadn't even heard her return.

Jumping to his feet, he followed her back into the Emergency Room. He gave up trying to keep track of the path they took as they wove past the triage staff, past several numbered exam rooms with closed doors.

Briefly, Carlton wondered which private area his partner was in. He reached out his hand, trying not to lose his balance and careen into the young woman. He had almost missed her coming to an abrupt stop.

They had made their way past several empty, open curtained areas and around a nurse's desk. They now stood outside a curtained bay, curtain drawn for privacy.

"We don't want to sedate him with a head injury."

Jane spoke as she opened the curtain, motioning the detective into the space.

"A familiar face might help prevent him from injuring himself any more."

Lassiter nodded, walking toward the head of the bed, taking in the situation before him.

"Thank you," he said softly and earnestly.

.

"Sir, you have to stay still!"

A nurse across from Carlton stood alongside Shawn's prone body, struggling to keep him from thrashing about on the gurney and dislodging the IV taped akwardly in his left hand.

"SIR!"

Moving quickly into Shawn's field of vision, Lassiter glanced quickly at the nurse, offering his assistance with a tip of his head and intervening when she nodded quickly in relief.

"Spencer!" He spoke sharply but kindly, reaching out his hands and laying them gently along the psychic's shoulders. "You have to calm down and stop moving."

"Let me go! I've got to get Jules." Shawn's eyes were unfocused, his breath ragged as he struggled weakly against the detective's touch.

"SPENCER!" Lassie tried again, leaning his body forward more in order to completely fill Shawn's field of vision.

"Shawn", he tried again, softening his tone as he felt the man slow his thrashing below him. "It's okay. Juliet is safe now. We go you both. It's over."

Shawn blinked several times, and Carlton felt the last of the tension fade from the man's body. He watched the man's breathing normalize slowly and began to lighten up his hold on the psychic.

"Can't move..." Shawn mumbled, sounding like a scared child, "I... please.. let me go... I'll be good... I promise."

Lassiter glanced at the nurse across from him, confused for a moment before he noticed that the psychic was loosely restrained at the hands and feet. Done to prevent him from throwing himself out of the bed or injuring someone in his confused state.

"Shawn," Lassie spoke soothingly as he had when he first found the man bound to the chair. "It's okay. You're at the hospital. You're safe now. I need you to open your eyes and look at me."

Lassiter carefully repeated the comforting words, and smiled slightly when the younger man slowly steadied dhis breathing and opened his eyes, stilling his struggling against the restraints as he did.

"Lassie?" Shawn's voice was only a tiny bit stronger than before, but his eyes shone with a clarity that told the detective he was finally living in the moment and would be able to work with his doctors.

"Yeah, Spen... Shawn. It's me." The detective nodded, drawing up a chair as he spoke. He waited for the younger man to continue, growing nervous when several long seconds went by and all the psychic had done was close his eyes again.

"Please..." Lassie nearly missed the words as they slippped from Shawn's lips. "No more restraints." His voice cracked at the end, leaving the older man wondering if Shawn was on the verge of tears.

Lassiter glanced at the nurse across from him, relieved to see her nod her assent and begin to loosen the bindings at Shawn's arms and legs.

"You have to stay still Shawn," he repeated, "Or they'll have to use these again to keep you from getting hurt more."

An almost imperceptable nod was the only response Lassiter got for several minutes. The nurse left the two of them in the curtained bay as she went to fetch the doctor.


	8. Chapter 8

"Can you tell me today's date is?"

Shawn groaned inwardly as the attending physician in the E.R. flicked a pen light across his visual field. Wincing, he bit back a sarcastic response when the bright intrusion, first one one side then the other, caused his head to throb and his eyes to sting.

"Um, it's... S-Sunday."

The fact that he actually had to think hard about the answer to the question left him with no doubt he had a concussion. Wasn't his first, probably wouldn't be his last, especially considering how recklessly he drove his bike on occasion.

"Can you tell me where you are right now?"

"Santa Barbara Hospital."

This one, Shawn knew he had right. In his trio of decades, he had graced the Emergency Room with his presence more times than he could count. He was pretty sure that if he was blind, comatose and half deaf he would still be able to recognize the place by it's smell. Antiseptic and sterilized paper with a hint of adhesive backing and a funny, bland sharpness to the air, like there was a tiny ionizer in every room - charging the air around them to be as crisp as the sheets and curtains.

"Very good," the doctor intoned, "Follow my finger, but don't move your head."

Shawn didn't think that would be a problem. Currently, the very thought of moving his head had his stomach doing little somersaults. As it was, tracking the man's proscribed movements was making his head feel like a giant gyroscope tilted at a precarious angle to the rest of the world. Barely finishing the test, he closed his eyes to block out the increasing nausea that threatened to overcome. Definately a concussion, and not a very mild one judging by the rate at which he continued to feel more and more shitty.

"Ok, Mr. Spencer," the Doctor took a half step back, dropping his hands into the pockets of his lab coat as he continued, "It appears you have a pretty large concussion. I'd like to send you down to radiology to get a better look at the damage and check out how bad those ribs are."

"M-kay," Shawn spoke softly, eyes still closed and continued to hold his head still.

"I'd like to keep you overnight for observation and then re-evaluate if you're able to head home on your own or need to have somebody check on you more often for a few more days." The doctor paused, flagging down the nurse from earlier as he spoke. Quickly scribbling orders on the clipboard with Shawn's chart pages, he handed it off to her as he continue speaking.

"Try and get as much rest as you can but know that we are going to be waking you frequently and assessing you for signs of any worsening of the concussion. Getting annoyed by the disruption will be a good sign that the swelling isn't getting too severe and that you're on the road to recovery."

The nurse toed the brake lever below the bed and started to manuever the queasy psychic down the hallway to the radiology department.

"We'll be right back in no time," she soothed as Shawn began to protest not having Lassie nearby. "I'll take good care of you, don't fret."

"Detective."

Lassiter turned his focus to the attending. Carefully studying the man's expression as he continued to speak. He had to give the man credit, his poker face was superb. And for a trauma specialist, he had a surprisingly calm and patient manner.

"Detective O'Hara is in surgery at the moment." He held up his hand briefly as Carlton bristled, barely biting back questions about his fellow officer's condition.

"She had some extensive tearing and given the severity of the psychological trauma, it seemed more prudent to fully sedate her in order to repair the damage and complete a thorough examination."

"Have they collected a ..." Carlton swallowed, unable to verbalize the trauma again, "an assault kit?" he finally finished the question without having to fully acknowledge the rape again.

"Clothes and what physical evidence was able to be obtained externally without further victimization have been bagged according to procedure," the doctor replied, "and the full specimen and sample kit along with photographic evidence will be gathered while she is in surgery. An officer is already waiting at the surgical suite to take possession of the evidence and bring them to the police lab."

Carlton nodded. "I'll wait here for Spen... Shawn," he replied. "The chief says his father is out on a lodge fishing trip up north, an his best friend hasn't gotten back to me yet."

"That's fine," the doctor continued speaking, almost as an aside, as he turned and began to move back to the staff work area, "I will let you know as soon as your partner is out of surgery."

"Thank you."

Carlton slumped into the molded plastic chair tucked into the corner of the triage bay. Pressing his fingers into the bridge of his nose, he took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. The enormity of the situation was only just weighing in for him and the realization that he was the sole support for both his partners had him scrambling mentally for all the strength and clarity he could muster. For once, he was actually glad that Chief Vick had chosen to pass the case off to another department. If he had been forced to choose between personal and professional responsibilities, he probably would have handed in his badge or gotten himself suspended by now judging by the swirl of emotion coursing through him and the very un-lawful thoughts he was having about the sick bastard who had brought all this chaos and destruction upon them all.


End file.
